


Please Mycroft. Go.

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Series: Near miss [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Mollcroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You need to go.” </p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous. It is just a stupid holiday for children.”</p><p>“He is still alive. And she will open the door for anyone tonight. Please Mycroft. Go.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Mycroft. Go.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters. This work is for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> No beta -- all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Half a stone is seven pounds

“You need to go.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It is just a stupid holiday for children.”

“He is still alive. And she will open the door for anyone tonight. Please Mycroft. Go.”

Intellectually Mycroft knew these words were coming from a body that was somewhere on the other side of the planet but it sounded like his brother was in the next room.

The phone call had been routed through a handful of satellites, encoded, then decoded at least three times to render it untraceable and non-existent; still Mycroft could hear the pleading tone in his brothers voice.

“Fine,” sighed Mycroft as he ended the call abruptly.

//

Ten minutes later Molly, holding a plastic caldron full of sweets, opened her door expecting to see a small troupe of baby ghosts and vampires. Instead she found one full-size member of the British Government.

“Oh hello Mycroft. This is a surprise,” laughed Molly nervously. “I take it you’re James Bond again this year?”  She held out the candy bowl towards him.

“May I come in?” Ignoring the comments and the treat bowl, Mycroft pushed past a confused Molly and shut the door. “Is it really wise to open your door to just anyone, without even checking to see who it is?”

“Mycroft it is Halloween,” sighed Molly.

By now Mycroft had hung up his coat and made his way into the sitting room with Molly following helplessly behind him.  Turning back towards Molly, dressed in a oversized jumper and yoga pants, he gave her a look that indicated just how irrelevant he thought this fact was to the discussion. 

“Halloween is a ridiculous concept that for some godforsaken reason has managed to migrate across the pond like some sort of evil plague.” There was revulsion in Mycroft’s voice. “It is dangerous for a young and attractive woman to open her door to strangers at any time but tonight especially.”

“Why? Because I might die of the cuteness? Have you ever had trick-or-treaters at your house? Those little tiny devils with the horns! Or those itty-bitty fangs!” Molly almost squealed with excitement.

The look on Mycroft’s face indicated he was neither convinced nor amused.

“Did you just call me attractive?” Molly flicked an eyebrow up at Mycroft. 

“It's called flattery and Anthea says I should try it more often. Listen to me Molly. ANYONE can dress up tonight and come to your door. It is dangerous. Do you understand me?” his tone was very stern.

After a moment Molly replied calmly and rationally.“Okay. Yes. I get it. Given that "thing" that I helped our mutual friend with I guess I can see your point.”

“Thank you,” responded Mycroft, “Finally.”

“But I still have nieces and nephews who are expecting to scare Auntie Molly in return for a belly-ache full of candy.”

Mycroft let out a dejected sigh. He really thought he had been getting somewhere.

“So I guess the solution is—you stay here and open the door so you can protect me from whatever evils you are sure are lurking in the shadows tonight.”

A groan came from Mycroft indicating that he wasn’t happy with this option. Molly could see his jaw tense and his hands clench in anger.

“And in exchange—I promise as soon as my nieces and nephews have come round I will turn off my light and be done.“

“Deal," came the response through gritted teeth.

//

“How much longer?” Digging through the sweet bowl Mycroft chose a tiny parcel, unwrapped the pink cellophane, put the chocolate in his mouth and the wrapper back in the bowl.

“Hey! Wrappers on the coffee table not in the bowl,” mock scolded Molly from the other side of the couch. “It’s not nice to give the kids a handful of wrappers.”

Mycroft just shrugged his shoulders and tried not to look sheepish as he rooted through the bowl again. 

Between trips to the door they were half-watching “100 Scarriest Moments in TV History.”

“They are on their way. Apparently the traffic is horrible.” Replied Molly putting down her phone and popping another sweet into her own mouth.

//

Finally Molly's three sisters arrived with all eight of their children. Auntie Molly put a handfull of sweets in each bucket of the tiny ghosts, goblins and witches and whispered a promise to ring her sisters tomorrow to explain the very well dressed man who had opened the door, would not let them in and was impatientky waiting for them to go away.   
//

Flicking off the light as she watched her family head off into the night Molly turned to Mycroft. "See? Nothing happened. It was all fine. Want to stay until this dumb show is over. It's only got about 15 minutes left."

Shrugging his shoulders Mycroft nodded acceptance of this offer. 

"I need the loo. Be back in a sec," called Molly over her shoulder.

Settling back onto the couch Mycroft was once again rummaging through the sweet bowl looking for something good when he heard a blood curdling scream.  In an instant he flew across the small flat and burst through the door Molly had closed only moments before.

His heart pounding, with the voice of Sherlock pleading for him to protect Molly tonight ringing in his ears, he found an ashen faced Molly standing on the loo frantically gesturing towards the tub.

Mycroft turned fully expecting to see a severed head or something equally as ominous.

Instead he saw a spider of reasonable, but not gigantic size, sitting quite happily right in the middle of the tub mat minding his own business.

Trying to catch his breath after the rush of adrenaline had taken it away he looked back at Molly. “Seriously. You touch dead bodies every day and this—“

“Yes! Just get it. Please! I am terrified of spiders. Mycroft hurry! Don’t just stand there!”

Rolling his eyes Mycroft causaully pulled off a few sheets of toilet paper while ignoring Molly’s ranting.

“But don’t kill it! It’s bad luck. Just toss it out the window after you pick it up.”

Taking a deep breath and eating all of the words he wanted to say Mycroft lent over the tub and gently picked up the spider in the sheets of toilet paper. Molly screamed into her sweater covered hands as she watched Mycroft open the bathroom window and toss the small bundle out.

He had no more than closed the window when Molly lept across the room at Mycroft colliding into him like someone jumping from a sinking ship into a life raft; her arms and legs wrapped around him clinging on for dear life. 

Instinctively his arms opened up and wrapped around her as he struggled to stay upright.

“Christ woman!” He staggered backwards finding both balancing and the invasion of his personal space quite challenging. 

She had buried her face into his neck. Her breathing was fast and shallow. It matched the frantic heartbeat he could now feel  on his chest. 

“Just get me out of here—please.” The frantic whisper was tinged with tears. “There might be more!”

“Of course there are more. Given the standard habits of a spiders and—“ The scream soaked through his waistcoat and shirt and made a moist hot pool on his collar bone as Molly’s grip tightened even more.

In his minds eye he could see Anthea tutting him with a look of disappointment.  That had been apparently exactly the wrong thing to say.

Without another word he took Molly out of her loo and closed the door firmly behind them.

//

Mycroft was now standing in the middle of the sitting room, with Molly still firmly attatched to him, contemplating what to do next. He cautiously moved his hands from fully around her to onto her hips and began pushing away from him.

“NO!” Once agin he felt her moist breath seeping through his clothes. “Not yet.”

Putting his arms back around Molly he felt her slightly relax. He let his head drop to lean against hers. It had been a long time since he had encountered the fresh scent of a female. Most of the women he came in contact with where slathered in makeup and perfume. Instinctively he put his nose behind her ear as he inhaled. The various fregence notes unveiled themselves: she was tired after a long week and was doing her best not be exhausted; seeing the happy children had brought much joy; a hint of sadness because she was missing people, his brother probably and her father defiantly; longing …

It was with a sudden jolt that Mycroft realized that Molly’s weight was rather insignificant and as he was storking her back he could feel her ribs.

“When was the last time you ate?” he murmurred softly in her ear.

“You saw me eating sweets all night.”

“Not what I mean. Answer the question.”

“A packet of soup for lunch. Yogurt and buiscuts for tea,” was the quiet reply.

“Molly,” Mycroft was trying to be gentle with his tone. “You are thin as a rail. For a woman your height your healthy weight should at least half a stone more at the absolute minimum.”

“I don’t like eating alone and well—Sherlock used to—“

“Come on. Put some clothes on,” Mycroft was once again pushing Molly’s hips off him. “We are going to get some dinner for you.”

“Pizza?” asked Molly hopfully her arms still around Mycroft’s neck as her toes touched the ground.

Rolling his eyes in mock-disguest, “Might as well make this the worst night of my life ever.”

As Mycroft watched a giggling Molly retreat into her bedroom he shivered and for the first time ever missed the warmth of another human being.

Suddenly a whiff of fear hit him only an instant before his name. 

"Mycroft?" He heard through the bedroom door. "Could you please check to see if there are any more-- you know-- in my loo?"

"Of course my dear." 

//

Across the street from Molly's house stood a gentleman in a Guy Fawkes mask and black outfit barely discernible in the shadows. He watched with disappointment as a sleek black car pulled up and a certain meddling member of her majesty's government drove off with just the woman he had his sights on this evening. 

He pulled out his phone preparing himself for the abuse he was about to receive. His boss would not be pleased ... 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> At the moment this is a stand-alone work! Sorry about the cliff-hanger ending. It just happened!


End file.
